The Dream Revisited On Atlanta`s Sweet Auburn Avenue, Birthplace Of Martin Luther King Jr. And The Civil Rights Movement, The March Of History Is Preserved.

February 4, 1990|By VALERIE HILL-MORGAN, Staff Writer

One day this past fall, my husband and I packed the car, buckled up our two kids and braved the 12-hour drive to Atlanta with one mission in mind: to step back into the 1960s civil rights movement as it was chronicled through the life of Martin Luther King Jr.

We knew of no better place to do so than Atlanta`s Auburn Avenue, where the largest collection of King`s personal effects is preserved at the Martin Luther King Jr. Center for Nonviolent Social Change.

I was born in Atlanta and spent the first 17 years of my life in the city. But visiting this time would be a whole new experience.

-- As a child, my parents often took me, my sister and four brothers to Atlanta historic sites. But, as is the case with many grown-ups, my memories of childhood excursions remain sketchy at best.

My mother, however, has never forgotten; in fact, she will still proudly rattle off the names of these places like a tour guide: the house on Auburn Avenue where King was born and raised; Ebenezer Baptist Church, on the same street, where he served as co-pastor along with his father; the Prince Hall Masonic Building, also on Auburn, which houses the national office of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference. The list goes on.

I was eager to revisit all of the places I had seen as a child. I had left Atlanta 13 years before, after finishing high school, and despite graduating from college, getting married and starting a family, I still felt empty away from the city.

Now, I wanted desperately to give my children what my parents had given me -- a sense of the black struggle for equality and racial harmony, a sense of our country`s struggles.

-- After settling in at my parents` home in Dekalb County, we drove south to bustling downtown Atlanta to visit the King Center. It was raining hard, but the weather dampened neither our spirits nor our enthusiasm.

As we parked along Auburn Avenue, directly across from the King Center, I noted how markedly the street had changed since my childhood. For one thing, there was now a park and a city-owned community center named after King. There also were tour buses, dozens of cars bearing out-of-town license plates and people of various nationalities strolling the sidewalks of the predominantly black neighborhood.

But more importantly, the street, we discovered, had a new designation: ``Sweet Auburn Avenue.``

Inspired by black political leader John Wesley Dobbs, Sweet Auburn was so named because from the 1890s through the 1940s black businesses along the street prospered even in the face of Atlanta`s rigid segregation laws.

In 1980, a portion of Sweet Auburn Avenue was officially established as the Martin Luther King Jr. National Historic Site. Today this area includes the King Center, King`s birth home and Ebenezer Baptist Church.

I felt a surge of excitement as I scanned Sweet Auburn and pointed out a couple of familiar landmarks to my husband and children. Then we crossed the street for the red-bricked King complex.

A hostess greeted us at the doorway and told us there was no admission charge (although donations would be accepted gladly), then she asked us to sign the center`s guest register. Among the names was that of a family from Japan.

Last year, according to Stoney Johnson, director of media for the center, 1.7 million people visited. ``Every year, attendance has gone up,`` he said, adding that since its inception in 1982, ``the center has become the largest tourist attraction in the state.``

Inside the center we paused to look at some of the glass display cases holding King`s personal effects: his Nobel Peace Prize; his Bible; the briefcase he carried to Memphis, where he was killed by an assassin`s bullet on April 4, 1968; his room key from the Lorraine Motel in Memphis; and the Senate tally sheet for the 1983 vote to make King`s birthday a national holiday.

We turned each of the display cases into a quick, crude lesson in history for our 3-year-old son and our baby daughter, even though we knew both were much too young to understand.

Fortunately for us, we were not the only ones grappling for explanations. Other parents, clasping the hands of their young, were struggling as well.

``Did Dr. King get shot?`` we overheard one inquisitive little boy ask. ``Yes, he did,`` a mother replied in exasperation.

Our own son stared in awe without saying much of anything.

-- It was still raining when we finished viewing the cases, but we ignored the downpour and dashed outside to the museum`s reflecting pool. Here King`s body lies in a white marble tomb.

The museum`s adjoining gift shop was next on our list. Normally I avoid ``gift shops`` because I hate junk, but there was no way we would have skipped this one.